


No Evil: (I heard the words you've yet to speak)

by amanderjean



Series: No Evil [2]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6155346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amanderjean/pseuds/amanderjean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A relationship from the outside. Christy practices selective hearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Evil: (I heard the words you've yet to speak)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on imagined renderings of real people, and is not meant to imply any actual knowledge of the beliefs, behaviors, or values of any of the characters mentioned.

Christy could practically hear everyone calling her an idiot.

She could hear the snickers and the scoffs, the murmurs behind her back. She could hear the snide jokes made at events when her husband’s whole body pointed away from her and toward his best friend. She could hear the unsteady cadence in her husband’s voice when he came home too late and smelled like whiskey and cologne he didn’t wear.

She could still hear the sounds that came from behind the door that night.

Caught up at work, be home late, his texts had chimed. The sound of the rain on the roof of the car and the soft rush of tires against wet pavement soothed her as she drove to Burbank, warm dinner on the passenger seat for both of them. Wife of the year, she thought to herself with pride and satisfaction.

The click of the spare key turning in a lock, the groan of a heavy door. Soft shuffles across a carpeted floor. “Link?” She called, gently, the echo bouncing back at her through the hallway. The office door was closed. She grinned and approached quietly, not a sound escaping. She loved surprises as much as her husband hated them.

A low moan drifted out as she approached the door. A sound of hurt or frustration, she thought at first. And then another one, long and higher-pitched, hitching at the end. The ocean of her pulse roared in her ears, almost drowning out the squeak of the old couch, the hard breathing, the open, wet sounds of what was unmistakably kissing. The walls and door provided no cover, the only fucking room in the place that wasn’t soundproofed.

Her footsteps heavier, the click of the side door less careful, but nothing was louder than her mind repeating, “oh, fuck, Rhett, yes,” in her husband’s voice.

She could hear them all calling her stupid and blind and she heard her daddy’s voice on her wedding day telling her to keep an eye on those boys, see they don’t get up to any trouble now. She heard years of wild laughter and whispers in ears, starts of sentences that didn’t need completing and giggling, always giggling, like freaking schoolgirls. But as the sound of the thunder and rain slowed her breathing and her pulse stopped pounding in her ears, she found, to her great surprise, that her heart was still whole. She reached deep, expecting the initial shock to give way to hurt and broken trust and savage anger, and she found they simply weren’t there. It was almost as if it had always been this way. And it had, hadn’t it? He was there first, and who knows, maybe they had always had this, had always come together in the dark and quiet, and she was the one who came in from the outside.

The thought was almost comforting. That this is the way it had always been.

And so, although she heard everything, she turned a deaf ear. She didn’t pay attention to the whispers and giggles, crude jokes or concerned speculation, the squeals of teenage girls when the two men sat too close or brushed hands and legs or made rather intense eye contact. Her husband’s laughter was the same, his sweet whispers in her ears still brought butterflies to her stomach, his silly voices still made their children roar with joy. The sound of his car door closing in the driveway still made her heart race, so eager for him to smile that crooked smile in her direction. Her life was still standing, solid and strong, as it ever was. And if some strains of intimate conversations or quickened breath or too-quick protestations of feelings other than friendship met her ears, she simply didn’t pay it any mind. She wasn’t stupid, she was merely satisfied.


End file.
